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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610787">You Only Win All The Time Because You're A Cheetah</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/pseuds/ThoughtsCascade'>ThoughtsCascade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bananas, Cheetah Virus, Death Wish, Doublethink, Dubious Consent, Efforts towards resolving it are made at the end of the fic, Eventual Healthy Discussion, F/M, However there is very much a, Largely due to the fact that the Master does not speak Cheetah, Not too much of one, Other, Overprotective TARDIS, Power Imbalance, Roleswap, communication barriers, of sorts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/pseuds/ThoughtsCascade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, suffering a nasty case of the Cheetah virus, calls for the Master in hopes he can help provide her a cure when her efforts failed. Unfortunately she waited perhaps a little longer than she ought, and things didn't go quite as smoothly as planned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Only Win All The Time Because You're A Cheetah</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/gifts">fluffysfics</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Basically my brain went 'AU where the Doctor was the one who couldn't cure the virus in time in Survival and occasionally has to deal with it coming back' since we now have a few fics with the Master dealing with that. That's about the entirety of what's AU in this fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, aren’t you <em> gorgeous</em>,” the Master breathed, staring at the sight before him. He was well aware that he sounded more like <em> her </em> than himself, but he couldn’t help it. The last thing he’d expected, upon receiving a <em> contact </em>from the Doctor with a set of coordinates, was this.</p><p>Before him was clearly the Doctor, except for the ways in which she <em> wasn’t </em> . Her eyes were golden, rather than her usual hazel. She had claws. Her scowl revealed fangs, and her usual blonde hair had a few spots of black, though she didn’t yet appear to be growing any other fur, that he could see. None noticeable, at any rate, though as obsessive (or <em> obsessed</em>) as he was even he hadn’t taken much note of how much body hair she normally had. </p><p>(If that had been largely because he’d never gotten to see her bare arms or more than a sliver of her shin, with this self, well that was his own business, wasn’t it?)</p><p>She’d shed her coat, suspenders, and boots, and was looking somewhat uncomfortable with the rest of her clothes as well, so maybe she <em> was </em> growing fur or gaining mass. Or maybe she was just continuing her task of glaring at him, and any discomfort he thought he saw was imagined. He didn’t know her nearly as well as he’d thought, so it was difficult to say.</p><p>“Oh dear, can’t speak very well with those <em> fangs</em>, can you?” His guess was confirmed by her deepening scowl. He clapped his hands enthusiastically, ignoring the way she bared her teeth.</p><p>Well, maybe not ignoring it <em> entirely</em>, but that sight would make anyone’s hearts race. If, perhaps, for a different reason than his were.</p><p>“So the Cheetah virus has come back, clearly.” She nodded, looking like she’d be pouting if she could. “Where are your humans? You didn’t <em> eat </em> them, did you?”</p><p>He was positive he absolutely deserved the tackle that followed, in her eyes, for sounding so gleeful about it, but he thought he had every right to ask. He hadn’t liked those ones. Not good for her, not at all. Not even interesting, either.</p><p>The way she was avoiding his gaze, even whilst on top of him, made it clear that she likely wasn’t going to answer the question of their whereabouts any time soon. Probably hadn’t eaten them though, didn’t look guilty enough. Pity. “You know, I think tackling people they’re excited to see is more of a <em> dog </em> move than a <em> cat </em> one,” he said, only to get <em> bitten</em>.</p><p>Well now, that was just unfair. He was <em> never </em>going to be able to forget that, now was he? Even if she’d been very rude and shoved him further into the ground after. Probably since he was grinning. What else was he supposed to do, though? She had to realize the optics of this situation.</p><p>“Doctor, as <em> lovely </em>as you calling me and then pinning me down is-” he began, only to stop and snicker as she hurriedly leapt off of him. He stood up and brushed himself off, pressing two fingers to the spot she’d bitten and then tasting his blood on his fingertips, grinning as he spotted her watching.</p><p>“As I was saying, is there a reason you’ve gone all <em> feline</em>? I know for a fact that a TARDIS can synthesize a cure, just because you didn’t get there in time to stop the rest of that regeneration from having the eyes and the fangs doesn’t mean you can’t cure it now.”</p><p>She held up her hands as if that was supposed to be an answer. They were, in fairness, claws, so perhaps that was intended to be one. Some implication that she couldn’t use the lab equipment without <em> hurting </em>her TARDIS or some nonsense.</p><p>...Or maybe the more practical concern of fine motor skills. “Actually, I’m shocked you don’t keep the cure on-hand.”</p><p>The Doctor made a few complicated gestures that left the Master staring blankly. Seeing this, she tried again, only to sigh in annoyance as it evidently became clear to her that he had no clue what she was trying to imply in her game of charades. Eventually she pressed a word into his head, face screwed up as though the action was either causing immense pain or taking immense effort. <em> Relapse</em>.</p><p>It took the Master a few seconds to connect the dots. “So the vaccination didn’t help this,” he confirmed. She nodded. </p><p>He tilted his head at her, considering. “So you took the cure you thought you had, only for it to not work- either you’ve been taking the same cure for years and accidentally created a supervirus strain within you, or it’s only just come back, for reasons unknown, but much stronger than last time, is that right?” It was, admittedly, possible she’d for some reason gone back to the Cheetah Planet, but that seemed highly unlikely at best.</p><p>Once more the Doctor nodded, and the Master <em> had </em>to pry. “Which was it?”</p><p>The Doctor flashed two fingers, then one. Hm. Maybe not <em> quite </em> either of his guesses, but he was on the right track. He persevered. “You went a decent amount of time without it- few regenerations maybe?- then something triggered the return, and you started taking the cure… hm, either regularly or whenever you first started noticing symptoms, only for it to not work this time?”</p><p>She nodded again, though it was immediately followed by her folding her arms and tapping her foot, as if to indicate that she was tired of all this questioning.</p><p>Hypocrite. As if she wouldn’t do the same thing if it was anyone else.</p><p>“So you called me… Ooohh, I know this one, you decided to actually use those claws and put an end to me personally,” he guessed, more wishfully than actually thinking he’d get so lucky. “Get your hands nice and properly bloody so you can be all <em> angsty </em> about it for a year or two before moving on. Oh! If you’re taking suggestions, might I propose eating me? Probably taste better than your companions. You’d know.”<br/><br/>She rolled her eyes, stalking forward and pushing him roughly in the shoulder before baring her claw threateningly. Apparently the innuendo wasn’t appreciated.</p><p>“No?” He pouted at her. “Well…  maybe you called just because you wanted to see me, mm?”<br/><br/>Once again he found himself tackled. The back of his suit was going to be filthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to much care. Not when it gave him the opportunity to stare right into those suns of eyes. “Again, really not helping your point with the excited tackling,” he murmured, only to yelp as he got struck in the stomach. Hard.</p><p>The taste of blood filled his mouth, and it took him a minute to realize he’d bitten down on his own tongue and to unclench his teeth. He swallowed, then began laughing as he watched her snicker and stand up. “That’s how it’s going to be, then?” He let his head thunk back against the ground, laughing for a few seconds more.</p><p>“Refuse to kill me, but take out your anger for your own screw-up on me? Well, I know you can’t have called for <em> help</em>, with that sort of attitude. Maybe I should just let you become a full Cheetah Person. Would probably fix itself when you regenerated, anyways. The fangs and eyes did. Not as if you have to worry about saving them like the rest of us, anyways.”</p><p>On the subject of eyes, he shut his own, just in case she was looking for an opening to kill him. He was perfectly exposed, like this. Laying down, neck jutting up, eyes shut, it would be so <em> easy </em>for her to kill him, and he could only half suppress a shiver at the thought. Maybe she would, if he just played his cards right.</p><p>Oh, he hoped so. </p><p>Unfortunately, devastatingly even, she seemed to regain control of her senses, if she’d ever lost them in the first place, sitting cross-legged on the ground right by his head. Not even a violent reaction to his words- at least, nothing he could hear, or that had him as a target.</p><p>Unless poking counted as violence, given she proceeded to do just that to him. Repeatedly. In the <em> stomach,</em> which under other circumstances the Master would usually ignore except for how in this body it felt like a <em> taunt </em>, when he hadn’t been fast enough to keep up as O and had actually gotten caught out in one of his disguises.  Proven inferior to her, as always. The lack of sprinting prowess hadn’t been faked. Among other things. </p><p>Not to mention, the claw was <em> sharp</em>, but not enough to do the damage required to kill him or even hurt him enough he might bleed out, at this rate. He hissed and grabbed her wrist, opening his eyes at the same time.</p><p>The Doctor recoiled, and a distant part of the Master wondered whether it was being part-Cheetah that made her so adverse to the noise, if she took it as a sign of impending aggression. </p><p>(A part he liked to pretend was just as distant was thinking back to a boy named Theta Sigma poking a boy named Koschei to wake him up from nightmares, the nights he hadn’t managed to be silent enough, and would then hold him until one or both was asleep.)</p><p>A less distant part of him noticed that for all her aggression and cheetah-like behaviours she hadn’t actually hissed back at him. Or at any other point. </p><p>“So you <em> do </em> want my help then?”</p><p>She nodded, and he had to admit that even when she couldn’t speak, even when they weren’t the right colour, her puppy dog eyes were <em> very </em>persuasive. </p><p>She shouldn’t get those if she was turning cheetah, cheetahs were obviously cats and this was highly unfair.</p><p>The Master blinked up at her a few times, nice and slowly as he waited for her to get the point. Judging by the way she blinked back and tilted her head, she wasn’t connecting the dots, even if her grin indicated that she was glad he’d agreed to help. He gestured around. “Can’t whip you up a cure from here,” he pointed out. </p><p>Once again she scrambled off of him. He watched her for a few seconds, until she glanced up once more with an expression somewhere between confusion and pleading- and wasn’t <em> that </em>nice to see on her face? Maybe she did actually… </p><p>He spoke before that thought could get any further. She’d made it clear enough in the Matrix Chamber that she didn’t. </p><p>“I assume you’d rather we did this in your TARDIS than mine.” Not to mention he didn’t particularly trust her in his TARDIS anymore. And he didn’t care if she did decide to kill him in hers. Or maybe he did, but only in that he’d be <em> grateful</em>. She was the only one who got to kill him, and the sooner the better.</p><p>He doubted she’d try to keep him prisoner again. Even if she wanted to for some inane reason her TARDIS probably wouldn’t allow it. The ship had made clear during his time as Missy that there was still a grudge over the whole Paradox Machine thing.</p><p>She nodded slowly, and he made a grand sweeping gesture. “Lead the way.”</p><p>Slowly they made their way through the trees, and the Master watched her carefully. Occasionally she would sort-of jolt forward, as if considering running or falling to her hands and using those as well. Without fail, she’d sheepishly glance back at him, as if to check if he’d noticed. Every time he blinked slowly then rolled his eyes slightly. Yes, he’d noticed, no, he wouldn’t pretend he hadn’t. Not for her. Not now. It wasn’t as if they didn’t both know that even half feral she was so far above him she might as well be in the stratosphere while he was a Neanderthal hardly able to conceive of the concept. </p><p>She did run the last fifty feet or so, then hopped from one foot to the other as she waited for him, seeming very pleased with herself, going by her smug look. </p><p>“I wasn’t aware we were racing,” he said slowly, watching the Doctor’s expression fall. “I think we both know you’d beat me in one any day, no need to wait for one that’s rigged with you being part cheetah and also the only one who knew where we were going.”</p><p>For someone who had just been accused of cheating she looked incredibly cheerful once more.</p><p>(She’d shamelessly cheated as a boy, knowing all would be forgiven as soon as he insisted that was the only way he could hope to win against a superior opponent and smiled that sunray of a smile.)</p><p>A few seconds later she remembered to lead him inside, and he did his best to endure her ship’s telepathic onslaught. <em> No, I’m not here to hurt her, you stupid piece of junk, she called me here. What, did she not tell you? ...Oh please </em> do <em> convince her to kill me, I </em> absolutely <em> agree that would make her lives so much easier. But don’t worry, even if she doesn’t we both know she’ll outlive both of us. You’re already on your last legs. </em></p><p>Though even as he said that telepathically, he knew that her TARDIS had been on its last legs the entire time the Doctor’d had it, the same way he’d been out of regenerations since first reuniting when the Doctor was exiled. Beings as stubborn as them could live a lot longer than the universe thought that they were supposed to.</p><p>Still, at least the insult- or perhaps the kick to the console as he passed- made the TARDIS back off. Even if the Doctor did give him a very sad look after he kicked. </p><p>She didn’t comment though, which was a win, just tugging his sleeve as she presumably led him to the lab. Probably because this wasn’t one for sad lectures and she knew she needed his help and couldn’t afford to get angry. </p><p>(If she <em> needed </em> him then maybe that meant she-</p><p>No. That was a dangerous thought. He wasn’t going there.)</p><p>The corridors took a terribly long time to navigate, and he still didn’t know if her TARDIS was just like this or if she had it out for him specifically.<br/><br/>Eventually they got to a lab which… also seemed to double as a bedroom, if the mattress in the corner and the <em> clothes </em> strewn about, variations of the shirt she was wearing, sweaters of it, and- “Theta, I can see your <em> underwear</em>.”<br/><br/>Her tastes in that hadn’t seemed to change. He wasn’t surprised, even if changing gender had definitely changed his preferences for undergarments. Then, it was a rare self of hers that wore anything that could be considered <em> pretty</em>. Still… “Question mark boxers? Really?”<br/><br/>She shrugged, not seeming to see the issue. They were <em> atrocious </em> colours too, lime green on <em> yellow</em>. Ugh. And to think that wasn’t even enough to deter him…</p><p>“Right,” he sighed, pulling up a screen. “At least get them out of my work area. <em> Please</em>.” She gave him a look that he, much as he hated it, could still read well enough to know the meaning of. Namely, that if she could talk she’d be criticizing him for refusing to touch underwear that was obviously clean.</p><p>As she moved a few away, tossing them carelessly aside, he looked the monitors over. She’d already procured all the necessary samples, and he had the data for the cure she’d been taking, so it was an easy enough task for him.</p><p>The Doctor seemed to be <em> prowling</em>, pacing the room relentlessly. “You know,” he called out to her, “You should probably be watching me do this. After all, I definitely won’t be around forever, and you’ll probably continue needing it. Your DNA’s likely been corrupted on a base level. Same part that gives you all those regenerations in the first place.”<br/><br/>Before he really knew what was happening, the Master found himself being <em> pushed </em> until he tripped over something and fell backwards. Luckily, it was the mattress. Unluckily, his face ended up near a pair of mismatched socks, one fuzzy and purple and the other designed to look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, but such was his life, apparently. At least they were probably clean.</p><p>Hopefully.</p><p>He gingerly tossed them to the side, which meant he wasn’t putting up any resistance when the Doctor maneuvered them so his head was on a pillow, nor when she laid down on top of him with <em> no </em> regard for personal space.</p><p>The bed didn’t smell very much like her, so he had to wonder when she had last slept here. The book digging into his spine said ‘possibly never’, and he fished it out, tossing it to the side. The Doctor was slowly blinking at him. Unthinkingly, he mirrored it, more confused than anything. Why had she suddenly pushed him here when he was trying to cure her? All he’d done was suggest she watch, she couldn’t be <em> that </em> averse. Their texting had revealed that this was one of the more science-orientated of the Doctor’s selves, hobby-wide.</p><p>He tried to dislodge her, only to get growled at in response. He quickly stopped trying. It didn’t seem like a <em> threatening </em> sort of growl, but the Master was acutely aware that he didn’t speak Cheetah. </p><p>The Master stayed as still as he could, and the Doctor responded by… rubbing her cheek against him. All of a sudden the Master found himself <em> really </em>wishing he’d paid attention to those animal documentaries that had seemed to be the only thing on television at night aside from infomercials for a good stretch of his time on Earth.</p><p>Not that he knew that it would do anything. As similar to a hybrid between humans and Earth cheetahs the Cheetah People were, he knew it was just a case of something akin to parallel evolution.</p><p>Well, she didn’t seem aggressive, at least.  She <em> probably </em>wasn’t about to eat him before he came up with the medication she needed. “Doctor, you in there?”</p><p>She blinked a few slow times, and he couldn’t tell if that was a yes or a no. The Master knew that Cheetah People still had their senses about them, but that wasn’t quite as true while the body was still fighting the virus. Really he’d be in more trouble if she did adjust to speaking, because that would mean her body had fully accepted the virus.</p><p>Or, well, <em> she </em> would be in more trouble. He supposed it didn’t matter to him.</p><p>He stared at the ceiling as he continued to get head-butted and her cheek rubbed over his beard. A brief glance showed that his beard was making her face red. </p><p>
  <em> Don’t suppose you feel like offering any help? </em>
</p><p>He got the distinct sense that her TARDIS thought that it was hilarious he’d even bothered to ask.</p><p>He sighed, making a cursory effort to get her to move her cheek somewhere that <em> wouldn’t </em> result in a rash covering it.</p><p>In response, the Doctor bit his neck in just the right place to have him gasping, and oh, that wasn’t <em> fair</em>. A moan escaped him entirely unwittingly, but really, there was only so much he could <em> do </em> . She was wriggling on top of him, he hadn’t been this close to her in <em> lifetimes </em> with the way her body was flush against his, and she’d just bitten him with fangs sharp enough to puncture even the egos of celebrities who were the epitome of mediocrity and had gotten by their whole lives on looks alone. </p><p><em> Very </em>sharp teeth, in other words. </p><p>There was only so much he could handle before a moan slipped out, even if there was also a healthy dose of terror in there, because he didn’t know how she’d react to that.</p><p>To his surprise, the Doctor looked at him calculatingly for a few moments, which was still infinitely better than the instant disgust and disdain he’d expected of her. Then, even more unexpectedly, she bit him <em> again</em>.</p><p>The Master made an effort to push her off, but either this self was stronger than he’d assumed or the virus was giving her extra strength, because she just pushed him down and growled in his face. Warningly? It really didn’t seem aggressive, and given that he was quite aggressive himself and made a point of spending time with those who also were, the Master was decently certain he’d know if she really meant it.<br/><br/>He continued to make a few more efforts to sit up. “Come on, we both know you don’t want to do this, you hated my flirting earlier. And you need me to work on the cure for that virus.” Despite his reasoning the Doctor seemed unmoved, but he continued trying to look for a way out of this because as much as sex with her would probably be the best thing he’d experienced (and consequently the thing he least deserved <em> to </em> experience), she would <em> hate </em>him after, even more than she already did.</p><p>He couldn’t hurt her more. Especially not like <em> that</em>.</p><p>True, he didn’t know if she’d move things beyond the biting, but she <em> might</em>, and that would be taking advantage.</p><p>Well… he couldn’t imagine she’d <em> like </em> it, but the Master had a potential solution. He looked into her eyes and tried to establish a mental connection. A small mental shove was all it would take. She wasn’t doing anything <em> truly </em>feral, her mind was still there buried under all the animal impulses, he’d studied the virus and the people enough after she’d first contracted it to know.</p><p>For his troubles the Master got the telepathic equivalent of running into an electric fence, a Doctor looking very much like she didn’t know why he’d reeled back judging by her blinking, and then it was back to being <em> bitten</em>. A lot and repeatedly on his neck, until he felt like he had no choice but to lay back, head spinning from a delicious mix of fear and arousal even as he tried to stop at <em> least </em> the latter. Normally if the Doctor had super senses he’d be more worried about hiding the former, but this situation was far from normal.</p><p>Once he was laying back the Doctor stopped with the biting- she’d managed to avoid any arteries, and he had to wonder if that was luck or whether she was more in control than he’d been led to believe.</p><p>He dearly hoped it was the latter, but was at the same time absolutely certain that she wouldn’t be doing this if she was herself.</p><p>What she started doing in lieu of the biting, however, was licking him and purring. That was nearly as bad, given how her tongue was <em> rough</em>, and he really didn’t know if he was tearing up from pain, or arousal, or the knowledge that she might hate him enough to put aside her morals and kill him when this was done.</p><p>That fear didn’t stop another groan from escaping him. Nor did it stop his gasps or a whine that he’d never admit to when the Doctor used her claws to <em> tear off </em> his trousers and underwear. And then kept biting him and using her claws on him, which made thinking <em> very </em>difficult for a rather considerable amount of time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Master found he began coming back to himself after he’d, well… <em> come</em>, blinking the pleasant haziness out of his thoughts as best as he could. </p><p>He hadn’t had sex that involved quite so much being rubbed against, by legs and genitals alike, since he was back in the Academy and first learning about it, fumbling and rushing and new and so afraid of getting caught and kicked out. </p><p>Well, she’d managed to keep her clothes on, after finding her claws wouldn’t rip them and him not helping. Technically not so much managed to keep them on as been unable to remove them, really. Still. Small mercies.</p><p>She was going to hate him even more. Not how he wanted her to or how he <em> deserved </em> to be hated either. What had just happened wasn’t something he’d had any control over, he was sure. Except a nagging worry that maybe he could have done more to stop it, that he hadn’t because yes, okay, he had definitely wanted it aside from the worry that she didn’t, so maybe his mind had self-sabotaged any efforts to stop her. </p><p>She was curled up on top of him and purring now, which might have been sweet if she was actually in her right mind. Even more proof that she wasn’t was the fact she seemed to be asleep. She’d never intentionally let her guard down that much around him. Not anymore.</p><p>He carefully slipped out from under her, glancing up at the ceiling. <em> Can I have a copy of my clothes? </em></p><p>Her TARDIS refused, with a distinct air of having the opinion that he shouldn’t have gone along with what had just happened if he wanted unruined clothes. He scowled, pointing out to the infernal machine that he’d <em> tried</em>, that <em> she </em> hadn’t helped him and so really it was <em> her </em> fault that her precious pilot had slept with him. </p><p>Doubly so since she apparently hadn’t been able to synthesize a cure to the strain of the virus that the Doctor now had, thus necessitating him being here in the first place, but the Master wanted to be killed by the <em> Doctor</em>, not the Doctor’s TARDIS, and so he kept that thought to himself.</p><p>He eventually settled for a white men’s shirt that fit him- meaning he has no clue why she has it, given if it belonged to any of her recent past selves it would be too big for him, and the fact that it fit him meant it must have been incredibly small, or, more likely, belonged to this her.</p><p>(Especially given he’d snooped as Missy to see the Doctor’s bedroom, and her last self’s room had looked nothing like this- it had been a <em> bedroom</em>, for starters- so he was assuming she’d made this one new. Unlikely to have old clothes, if that were the case.)</p><p>Except this shirt would definitely be baggy on her present self. Slightly, but <em> noticeably</em>. Then, he reflected as he stole a pair of her usual bottoms, the fact he fit into her trousers when she generally needed suspenders to hold them up served as a reminder that he shouldn’t always expect her to wear clothes her size. Maybe this self of hers just liked baggy clothes, or maybe she’d just gone for the type of shirt she was used to at some point (though he distinctly recalled her wearing a women’s shirt when they’d all dressed up for Barton’s shindy), or maybe at some point she had been disguising herself as a man.</p><p>He’d probably never find out.</p><p>What he <em> would </em>find out was a cure for the virus, or at least until it struck again. She deserved at last that much.</p><p>He worked for a little over two hours (<em>two hours, six minutes, fifty four seconds</em>, the part of his mind that had learnt to keep a perfectly precise track of time using the monotony of the drums informed him) and then he had a pill. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d get her to swallow it, but…</p><p>Oh. A bowl had appeared next to him while he’d been looking at the Doctor’s sleeping form, with a banana inside. Well, that worked. He’d never known her to not like bananas. He took the fruit and walked back over to the bed- well, mattress, given the lack of use or a frame it really didn’t deserve the title of <em> bed </em>- and sat down next to her, beginning to hesitantly pet her hair. </p><p>The way her purring immediately returned assured him that it hadn’t been a bad move, at least at the moment. She was sure to be upset about it later, upset about all of this.</p><p>After perhaps five minutes she blinked her eyes open, stretching and rolling onto her back- and there was definitely small amounts of fur on her stomach, he’d thought he’d felt it earlier- and holding it for about a minute. She then rolled back onto her stomach and climbed half into his lap.</p><p>Not the most ideal situation, given her face was worryingly close to his crotch and he’d refused to steal her underwear- likely clean or not- to wear under the trousers, which were bad <em>enough </em>to be stuck in, but he’d manage. Admittedly, her face wasn’t actually that close, it was just that in the moment being so much as in the same room as her felt too close, given the events of earlier.</p><p>She eyed it hesitantly, then bit down lightly on the banana- with just her front teeth, not the still slightly bloody fangs- and made a face at him. The Master blinked at her slowly and then peeled the banana (dropping the skin on the sheet), breaking off a piece, mushing it around the pill discreetly- thankfully sleight of hand was a talent he always managed to have regardless of the regeneration- and offered it to her. She ate it eagerly, then gave him a look that he was fairly certain was asking for more.</p><p>He held out the banana to her.</p><p>She made a displeased face at it.</p><p>He moved the banana away.</p><p>She gave him puppy dog eyes and stared at the banana.</p><p>He held the banana out to her. </p><p>She made a displeased face at it.</p><p>Sighing once he’d gotten the message, he broke off another piece and held it out to her, watching- and <em> feeling</em>- her wriggling and then moving to eat it eagerly. At least she was avoiding biting his fingers, though every graze of her teeth or tongue elicited a shiver.</p><p>He continued hand feeding her the banana until it was about half gone, at which point her motions got somewhat more hesitant before she ate the last bite out of his hand and then sat up so she was no longer in his lap, face <em> very </em>red.</p><p>She was silent for a few moments before snatching the banana from him and beginning to fervently take huge bites of it. </p><p>The Master wiped his hand on the sheets, given it was covered in… banana goo, and some saliva to really top things off. Then he stole a glance at her. He wasn’t sure her blush had faded at <em> all</em>. If he had less confidence in himself, he might have worried that it was a result of the cure messing something up in her. </p><p>After some minutes of nothing being said, he stood up. Immediately, she reached out and took his wrist with a speed just slightly too fast to be due to Time Lord DNA on its own. One look at her eyes- despite her attempts to avert them- showed well enough that they were dimming down to their usual perfect hazel.</p><p>“I was going to leave,” he said after three minutes exactly of further silence. “You’re cured for the time being, your ship has the data for synthesizing it in the future. And I assume you didn’t change your mind about killing me, so I-”</p><p>“No!” The Doctor looked startled by her own loudness, as if she hadn’t quite remembered the proper amount of force needed to speak properly. “I- stay. <em> Please</em>.”</p><p>She was practically begging, there was no way he could refuse that. The Master sat down heavily. Once he would have done nearly anything to hear her begging, now it just made him feel <em> guilty</em>. </p><p>Once again they were both silent. The Doctor had finished her banana. She was still holding his wrist. </p><p>Without any warning she began to lean heavily against him, hair curtaining her face. “I was… upset. When you said that you wouldn’t be around eventually.” She sounded like it was taking great pains to admit this. </p><p>“Still shouldn’t’ve… jumped you like that. Sorry. Wasn’t really thinking.”<br/><br/>“I think having been in a stage of a virus that was reducing you to animalistic instincts and urges is a fairly decent reason. Wasn’t as if you started ripping my clothes off until I was already <em> painfully </em> aroused,” the Master said dryly. </p><p>“Oh, glad I wasn’t making that up…” the Doctor murmured, seemingly to herself given how she raised her voice. “Well. Long as you’re okay with that part. And I was okay with it. But I-” She tangled her free hand in her hair, tugging hard. She no longer has claws, but her nails were almost certainly longer than they ought to be, given that the last time the Master had checked (in other words, the last time he’d seen her-) her nails had been bitten down to the quick. Beyond it, on some fingers. Now they all ended in <em> points</em>, reminding the Master more of his last self than anything else, though even Missy had generally avoided points or anything inconveniently far off the finger.</p><p>He gave the Doctor the time she seemed to need.</p><p>“I got… upset. Because you mentioned you not being around in the future. And I don’t… want you to not be around. And I wanted to show you that I wanted you to be around. So I did that, because...” she shrugged. “Cheetah logic.”<br/><br/>“Don’t think you particularly have a choice, love, given our respective lifespans,” the Master pointed out dully, ignoring how painfully awkward she was about that sex- though sex she didn’t hate him for and he didn’t have to hate himself for, which was an unexpected win- her words breaking the resolve he’d had to not interrupt her. </p><p>The Doctor looked up to glare at him, regeneration energy sparking off her fingertips. The Master kept his eyes on hers, only briefly noting the orange dancing in the corner of his vision. </p><p>“Are you really telling me you’d say no, if I offered? You?”</p><p>“You shouldn’t offer. Why <em> would </em>you offer?” His existence was only possible due to what had been stolen from her, it didn’t make any sense. Maybe the entirety of the universe was inferior to her, maybe most of it had hurt her, even, but they weren’t inherently around only due to how she’d been harmed. He especially didn’t deserve more regenerations. Not when every one he’d ever had was a result of the ability being stolen from her, taken forcibly.</p><p>“Why would I- why wouldn’t I offer!? You’ve been around all my lives-”</p><p>“No I haven’t.”</p><p>“All my lives that I <em> remember </em> and <em> care about</em>, then. And I’d like you to continue being in them.” The regeneration energy had faded, though the emotion behind her words hadn’t lessened, and in lieu of making the golden light dance as she had been the Doctor was once more tugging at her hair.<br/><br/>“Why?”</p><p>“Wh- you know why!”</p><p>“Do I?” The Master certainly didn’t <em> think </em>he knew.</p><p>The Doctor met his eyes and blinked very slowly a few times. The Master was beginning to think that perhaps he was missing something rather obvious, if even the Doctor, who had historically fallen for aliases such as ‘Colonel Masters’, to be looking at him as if he was a colossal idiot.</p><p>However, knowing he was missing something didn’t tell him <em> what</em>. The Master stared blankly.</p><p>The Doctor rolled her eyes, sighed, head-butted him gently in the chin after lightly biting his neck, moved his hand into her hair using the grip she still had on his wrist, and began purring.</p><p>Hesitantly the Master began petting her hair, and she began purring louder. Which was all well and good, he supposed, but he still had no clue what she meant or how this related to… well, anything. Let alone the original question of why she’d want him around.</p><p>As much as he hated admitting to that sort of thing… “I still have no clue what you’re getting at.”</p><p>Unfortunately, her purring stopped, though she did stay leaning against him. She sighed, and he couldn’t figure out if her annoyance was aimed at herself or him. He hoped it wasn’t aimed at him, when she seemed to not actually fully hate him.</p><p>Then again, he also didn’t want her to be annoyed at <em> herself</em>. Hm. This was a conundrum. Just as the Master was thinking of potential solutions (and petting her really was conducive to problem-solving in a way he felt would satisfy them both), such as attempting to redirect her annoyance towards Jack Harkness instead, as he was surely a deserving target, when the Doctor spoke again.</p><p>“Okay. Well. Even if you don’t know <em> why</em>, can you believe me when I say I’d rather have you around?”</p><p>The Master decided to go for honesty. Fuck it. Apparently they were having an actual emotional conversation now, after having managed to avoid it even in the Vault, largely. Conversations <em> about </em> emotions, sure, plenty of those. Conversations <em> with </em>emotions, certainly. Conversations where they were both emotional and also open and honest with each other?</p><p>Ha.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>The Doctor stared for a few seconds, agonizingly silent even when he had just bared his very soul in those two words, admitted a weakness he never wanted her to know. Until finally, “Care to elaborate?”</p><p>“Well, I go around killing people, for one. You’re usually very opposed to that. Moderately, at least, in some of your less empathetic faces,” the Master said neutrally, conversation surreal enough that he wasn’t certain this wasn’t a dream.</p><p>The Doctor stayed silent, so he carried on, urged ahead by the most prominent part of his brain, the same one that was still just <em> waiting </em> for her to kill him. Hoping, even. “I also wouldn’t exist if not for the fact you were tortured as a child. And I continuously tried to hurt you, for…” he tried to do some quick mental math, then gave up with a shrug. “A very long time. You didn’t even want me around back in the Vault, not really. You just wanted to make sure I didn’t destroy a third of the universe again, and trying to reform me and dangling the promise of friendship so I’d go with it was the easiest way to do that.” If she’d really cared, she would have found him. Or at least gone <em> looking</em>. But he’d watched this self of hers. She’d had plenty of time, but she <em> hadn’t</em>.</p><p>“I mean, I did want to be friends again too, but I was sort of right in the end. Given you betrayed me.”</p><p>The Master was so startled by that accusation- he’d thought that the Doctor would see through it- that he unceremoniously shoved the memories with the truth into her head, ignoring the electric fence feeling of her apparently <em> much </em> stronger than the last time he’d checked defences. </p><p>The Doctor was quiet for a few agonizing minutes. “Oh. Well then. Seems like even more a reason I’d want you around, eh?”<br/><br/>“There’s still the destruction of the universe thing. Threatened that last time we met, even.”<br/><br/>The Doctor scoffed. “Yeah, well. Maybe we should trade places for a bit. You work on saving the universe, I work on destroying it. It certainly hasn’t done much for <em> me </em>lately. Can’t even claim to have created me, now.”</p><p>In all honesty, the Master wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her say something quite so ruthless. He sternly told himself that he shouldn’t be finding it attractive. He… did not much succeed. At least she wasn’t still in his lap.</p><p>“Well. That’s a perspective,” he said, which was an obvious statement, a not-at-all-helpful statement, a less verbose than this self ever was statement, but he was <em> worried.</em> Immensely attracted to her, yes, but also concerned to hear her so pessimistic and seeming to believe it. Some of her selves put up a gruff act, like her last one at times, but this seemed to be genuine.</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>The Master stared. </p><p>“I’m fine,” she said in a monotone.</p><p>He blinked at her disbelievingly.</p><p>She squinted. “You’re <em> sure </em>you’re not having me on about not knowing why I’d want you around?”</p><p>“Yes?” He was sure just how <em> baffled </em>he was must have leaked into his tone- truly, he had no clue what she meant, nor why she chose then of all times to bring it up. </p><p>“Hm.” She squinted for a while longer, then spoke again, expression dissolving into a smile as she pushed up against him even more. “So, any more reasons for why I wouldn’t? Think I’ve done at least a half decent job at disproving all your others.”<br/><br/>“I… destroyed Gallifrey?”</p><p>That comment was met with a shrug and a nudge against his shoulder which was really more of a slam. The Master found he didn’t particularly mind, staying steady in the face of the assault. “Well, I was prepared to do that too. Thought I did.”<br/><br/>“And you hated yourself for it,” the Master pointed out.</p><p>“In fairness, I hate myself for a lot of things I don’t hate other people for. Like killing Daleks. Don’t get upset at my humans for doing that.”</p><p>Hm. “So am I more like your humans then you, then?” the Master asked, aware it was a lose-lose situation. Either he was closer to the humans and therefore <em> less </em> than her in her own eyes, or he was closer to her level than anyone else and would be held to those ridiculously impossible standards.</p><p>It was perhaps unsurprising that she chose to avoid answering it, she did that even with questions she really ought to answer- which that definitely wasn’t. “Is that a trick question?”</p><p>“Probably,” he admitted. “Not intentionally, but probably.”<br/><br/>She hummed and wrapped an arm around his torso, squeezing him close, and wasn’t that just <em> blissful </em>? Almost as much as the biting had been. “Thought so. Want to try that exchange again?”</p><p>“Can we… <em> do </em>that?”</p><p>“Sure, why not, only us two here- well, and my TARDIS. No one else needs to know. And neither of us like the way that try was going, so…”</p><p>Tentatively, the Master tried again- this felt  like cheating in one of those choose your own adventure books, he thought inanely. Or playing around with the programs the Academy used to evaluate how students would deal with encountering timeline alterations to see if they could be trusted to go offplanet in a TARDIS.</p><p>(He’d had to help Theta cheat those, so he could take his test. Maybe she was just returning the favour.)</p><p>“Do you hold me to different standards than you hold yourself to?”</p><p>Apparently that was a question she could answer, as she did so instantly. “I hold you to different standards than I hold anyone else to. Plenty I’ve forgiven you for that I wouldn’t forgive a human for. Always have done, since back at the Academy.”</p><p>Being told she held him to seemingly <em> lower </em>standards than humans was something he’d been ready to bristle at, but her next sentence took him by aback, and he ended up only asking “Why?”</p><p>The Doctor blinked at him slowly.</p><p>The Master refused to give in, unlike every other time she’d done that thus far.</p><p>“...Like you better,” she said slowly, as if the words were difficult to get out. “Some ways. Different. Than I do most of the humans. Or anyone else. Well. All caring’s <em> different</em>, even caring in the same way, ‘cause it’s different people. But it’s… <em> different </em> different. Than most of my companions.”<br/><br/>She stared at his torn clothes on the floor near where her feet were swinging.</p><p>On one hand, the Master didn’t think what she was saying made any sense. On the other, he got the feeling he wasn’t about to get an answer that was any clearer to him any time soon. Maybe ever. Despite that he stayed silent and waited, and eventually the Doctor broke again. Though what she said left him <em> baffled</em>. “It’s been a long time since you’ve tried to kill me,” she said conversationally.</p><p>Missy had been wrong, the Master was <em> never </em>going to understand the Doctor. Clearly all those comments had been borne of arrogance and nothing more. Still, he might as well see where this was going. “That’s true.” If they didn’t count him urging her to kill the both of them.</p><p>“Because you like me and don’t want me dead.”</p><p>The Master snorted, immediately regretting it when an unrestrained look of hurt flashed across the Doctor’s face. It was brief enough most would miss it, but he knew. He hurried to clarify, “I think I made that fairly clear when I agreed to stay in the Vault for a millennia, and didn’t make even one escape attempt. Or betray you.” Because she hadn’t <em> known</em>, and that was important. </p><p>“So you do like me?”</p><p>Ridiculous- absolutely ridiculous.</p><p>The Doctor could have been asking in a million different ways, with the ambiguity of that word, but it didn’t matter how she meant it or what that question was really supposed to get at, because the answer was the same. “Yes.”</p><p>“Well then. That’s a start.”<br/><br/>The Master stayed silent, uncertain as to why the Doctor still wanted him here. Her not wanting to kill him was nothing new, nor was him not <em> really </em>wanting her dead. Him not wanting her dead or hating her was far more old school, really- he’d hardly been stable directly before or after the war, for a multitude of reasons. </p><p>His personal timeline being messed with by the Time Lords due to said war and their escape attempt probably didn’t help. Well, he supposed he knew why they’d chosen him and not her. No need to anger someone who was all but a deity twice over. </p><p>Apparently figuring out that he didn’t know what to say, the Doctor spoke again. “Think we can try again, then?”</p><p>Jolting, the Master looked up at her. She couldn’t possibly mean what his mind was going to. There was no way. Not after everything he’d done to try and hurt her even since the Vault, attempts to hurt her even after knowing how much she’d been hurt already.</p><p>“I just… think that we should try again. With… everything. Not like the Vault, but. Miss having you around. Being on the same side, even if that side was just us versus Time Lord society. I…” she dissolved into silence, blinking slowly at him.</p><p>It was odd, that in all the time he’d spent studying her the Master had never noticed this particular behaviour- it almost seemed to be a tic- of the Doctor’s. He couldn’t recall observing it even once, actually. Her <em> blinking </em> definitely didn’t feel like what the Master should be focusing on, but he was having a hard time believing that the Doctor really meant it. He knew the pattern of his dreams well enough to know that this wasn’t one, but it still felt like one in every important way.</p><p>“I just… want things to work out,” the Doctor said quietly, and the Master realized he hadn’t actually <em> answered </em> her or spoken in a good… well, he didn’t think it had been all that long, actually. A few minutes at most. But she had always been… or rather, she’d been impatient as long as he’d known her. Which was quite a different story. Still, she was interrupting his thoughts. “Think we might both be ready to properly give it a shot, maybe. But that’s a mistake I made last time, it’s not solely up to me. Can’t be on all my terms.”</p><p>If he said yes to this it could easily end in the four hearts between them breaking. He might backslide too much, he felt <em> bad </em> about killing now but he hadn’t exactly <em> stopped </em>. Or she might neglect him- the Doctor had never been good at loving only one person, and the Master had never understood that. Even as he saw her affection seeming limitless seeing it or even just her attention go in other directions had always felt like less for him.</p><p>Neither of them were good at emotional talks.</p><p>But they were managing it now. Neither of them had yelled, or run away- as much as she had looked like she might want to- or resorted to violence to make a point.</p><p>He’d learned in his last regeneration that hope was dangerous. But he’d also learnt that being without hope generally didn’t change anything- made things more miserable, certainly, but didn’t stop any attempted solution. So he let it blossom in his hearts for the first time since he’d been Missy and ready to prove to the Doctor that she could do <em> good</em>, pass his test.</p><p>Funny, how it was always the Doctor who seemed to inspire that emotion in him.</p><p>But like her last self had said to him, that was the trouble with hope. It was hard to resist. And the Master might not feel it in nearly so many circumstances as the Doctor, but he always felt it <em> about </em> her. Connected to her. Maybe that was why he couldn’t resist her, that ever-present thread of hope that remained from a childhood long gone, one of the last remnants the Master carried of a boy who no longer existed and his affection for a boy who’d seemed to be brightness personified and had only gotten more blinding.</p><p>He blinked a few times, then nodded. “We can talk things through. If that goes well we can try again.”</p><p>Most of his life had been destruction, at this point, but she’d devoted just as much time to fixing things. Maybe they could manage to fix this- and maybe he could use his own talents for something approximating good, tear down the barriers and grievances that plagued both of them. </p><p>Oh, hope was dangerous and alluring and a temptress of the sort the Doctor could never manage to be. Intentionally, at least. He wasn’t convinced she knew just how many people fell in love with her every time she went out in public, with every adventure she went on and every person she saved.</p><p>But his answer got him a proper hug from the Doctor, one nice and tight that left him feeling <em> protected </em> and moreover like she couldn’t possibly be thinking of anything or anyone else, even when intellectually he knew how her mind worked, that she was always thinking of a million things at once.</p><p>But between the hug, the way she was nuzzling against him, and her purring, it was difficult to find any room for doubt in his decision. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Concrit welcome, I don't think I actually have too much to say here for a change.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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